


a boy for all seasons

by words_unravel



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2011536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_unravel/pseuds/words_unravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Over the course of a year, in bits and pieces, Louis and Nick fall in love.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a boy for all seasons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This is a vaguely canon AU (some things are the same, some are not) and my attempt to fulill the prompt of "pretty much just a fic of them being grossly domestic, make me barf with how fluffy and stupid they are". I don't think it's as terribly fluffy as it should be, but I hope this fic shows a progression of both comfort and domesticity as these two come together.
> 
> Thank you to [dessertmeltdown](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dessertmeltdown/profile) and [cloudlessclimes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudlessclimes/profile) or their quick beta work. All mistakes from here on out are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

**June**  
Louis doesn't know exactly what he looks like, but judging from the way Harry's smile fades and those long, lanky arms wrap around him, it must be fairly awful. Which, considering his girlfriend of two years -- the one he'd brought home a ring for, the one he'd gotten down on his knee for -- had just told him she was through with him. She was through with him, with their life together, through with everything and anything to do with him. 

It makes sense that he probably looks terrible, to be honest. 

Harry's voice, low and so very familiar, surrounds him, and Louis can feel his eyes getting wet for the first time all evening, even as Harry's warmth leaks into his skin. He hates crying, hates the way it makes his eyes red and swollen. It lets everyone know that he's upset and out of control. Louis _hates_ being out of control. Chaos is his middle name, but at least it's _his_ chaos. Crying means that's no longer true. 

Before he can blink the tears away, however, Harry's got them sat on the sofa. He's not let go, not once, keeping Louis tucked in close like he knows that Louis doesn't want to show his face right now. It's not the first time Louis's been grateful for his friendship with Harry and when Harry murmurs, "You'll stay here tonight," he knows it won't be the last. 

 

 **July**  
When Nick comes through the door, he's not wholly unsurprised to find Louis on his sofa. He is, however, surprised to find him laid out on said sofa, one arm thrown over his face, with a menagerie of beer bottles sat on the coffee table. Even from across the room, Nick can see Louis's chest hitch, hear the ragged inhale of breath. 

He means to say something light, something that will let him cruise through the room and get as far away from this emotional breakdown as possible -- Louis is Harry's friend, not Nick's -- only he opens his mouth to say something inane like, "Just passing through," and Louis flails, startled. 

Beer bottles make rather a lot of noise, Nick notes, when they're bouncing off each other and off his coffee table. Also, they shatter. 

Louis's rolled off the couch before Nick can even move, reaching down to pick up the broken glass and jerking back a second later with a rough, "Fuck!"

"Oi, Tomlins--"

"Piss off," Louis snaps. Nick snaps his mouth closed, standing there awkwardly as Louis just sits, cradling his hand. He's got his chin tucked against his chest, unwashed hair hanging low enough that Nick can't see his eyes. He can see the way Louis's digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Hard, like he's trying to keep it from trembling. 

It's been a month since Nick got home to find the two of them, Harry and Louis, curled around each other and fast asleep on the sofa. It's been a month, and Louis looks like he's doing everything possible not to cry in Nick's living room. 

With quiet steps, Nick makes his way over. "C'mon, love," he says, keeping his tone light, "I've got some plasters in the loo." He doesn't touch Louis, even though he can't quite help the hand hovering over Louis's hunched shoulder. "Fix you right up," he adds, "good as new."

That makes Louis snort. "Not your love," he mumbles and Nick rolls his eyes. 

He does tap him on the shoulder this time, just a quick touch. "Right, right. C'mon then, before you bleed out and Harry blames me for your untimely demise."

Louis does get up then, albeit with another wretched snort that Nick does not find amusing, not at all. He follows Nick though, so Nick counts it as a win. For what, he's not sure, but still a win. 

 

 **August**  
Nick's trashed. 

Nick's trashed and it's his _birthday_. 

"It's my birthdaaaaaaaaaay!" he yells and everyone in the living room screams with him. This is the greatest party _ever_. He's not realized he's muttered those words out loud until a familiar set of arms wraps around his shoulders. 

"Oof, you're a ton, Styles." It earns him the long, drawn out, _heyyyyy_ , he's expecting. Nick leans back into Harry and they both wobble for a second, before steadying. 

"Where's your boy?" Nick asks. He's not seen Louis all night and well, it's Nick's birthday. Everyone is required to celebrate him. "Everyone should be celebrating me," he says. Harry laughs in his ear. 

"He's out," is the response. "I told him he should come, but he didn't think you'd want him here. I told him it was rubbish, but Lou's stubborn when he wants to be." 

He is, Nick's learned in the last couple of months. Louis Tomlinson _is_ stubborn. He's also loud. And messy. Good christ, Nick's never seen anyone who can decimate a clean room the way Harry's friend can. He'd almost be impressed if he wasn't constantly worrying about the state of his home. 

He's about to complain when Harry murmurs, "Never did thank you, did I? For letting Lou stay." The actual _thank you_ is buried in the skin of Nick's neck, Harry's face tucked in tight even as he squeezes his arms around Nick. 

"Pssshhhttt," Nick responds, waving a hand about. "Nick's Home for Wayward Young Men is open to all. "

Laughter bubbles out of Harry's mouth and Nick adds, "Saved you, didn't I?" knocking his temple against soft curls. "I figure Tomlinson will be a piece of cake." 

Harry laughs. Harry laughs and somehow they end up in a pile of limbs on the floor as the crowd in Nick's living room sends up another cheer. 

Nick's trashed and it's his birthday and it's _great_.

 

 **September**  
Louis's just been about to score a massive goal when a crash startles him awake. After a moment, he rolls out of bed and makes his way to the door. When he opens it, Nick's standing there in the hallway. He's fresh out of the shower, hair still dripping a bit, in only his pants. 

It's too early to be jealous of Nick's stupidly long legs, Louis thinks, and then grumbles, "Could you _be_ any louder?"  
He shoves the heel of his hand into one eye and rubs hard enough to make it water. The only sound that greets him is a shaky inhale. Louis glances up, hand dropping down to his side. 

"Grimshaw?" 

Nick doesn't even look up at the sound of Louis's voice and it's strange, like he's not even listening. Louis tries again. 

"Nick?" 

Using Nick's first name seems to do the trick; he glances up. From the look on his face, Louis's a little worried that Nick's going to be sick. 

And that's when he remembers: it's Nick's first day on BBC's Breakfast Show. It's A Big Deal according to Harry, something Nick's dreamed of since he was a boy. Only right now it looks like Nick may very well pass out in the hallway and never make it to the studio. 

"Ugh," Louis grunts and turns back into his bedroom. When he comes back out after a moment, shrugging on a worn red hoodie, Nick hasn't moved. Rolling his eyes, Louis brushes past him and heads into the kitchen. 

He's nearly done preparing a cup of tea when Nick shuffles into the kitchen a few minutes later. "At least you've managed trousers now, Grimshaw," Louis says. He tugs the sleeves of his hoodie down over his fingertips and scrubs at his face again. "I'm going back to bed now." 

He's halfway back to his room when Nick calls out, "You've left your tea!" 

"It's not mine," Louis hollers back. Right before he slams his door shut, he adds, "And don't be so damned noisy tomorrow!"

 

 **October**  
When Nick turns around from hanging up his coat, there's a small blonde child standing in the hallway in front of him. 

This makes him pause, and they stare at each other, unblinking, for long enough that Nick can feel his eyes start to burn. For some reason though, it feels very important that he win this impromptu staring contest. 

Louis's voice calls from the living room, "Daisy, love, where'd you get off to?" and just like that, the tension breaks. 

The child, obviously a Tomlinson now that Nick takes the time to notice the wide, grey-blue eyes and sharp chin, gives him a quick grin, also familiar, then turns and skips down the hallway, shouting, "Lou! Lou! There's a tall man with strange hair that's come in!" 

Louis's laughter carries from the other room and Nick stumbles a little. 

Over the last few months, he's learned that Louis laughs a lot. There's a million different Louis laughs - sharp and scathing ones, sarcastic and deprecating ones. He's got a specific Harry laugh, too, but this one, the one floating down the hallway is the lightest one Nick's ever heard. It's _happy_. 

Nick makes his way to the living room, leaning on the door frame. He can't help grinning at the sight in front of him. "Didn't know I was running a home for wayward Tomlinsons." 

"They're only here for the afternoon," Louis says. He's currently getting his fingernails painted a rather vibrant shade of orange. When he glances up at Nick, there's still a hint of that laughter at the corner of his eyes. "Mum had to run some errands with Lottie and Fizz." 

There's a tug on Nick's hand that makes him glance down. _Daisy_ , Nick recalls. "Well," he grins, watching as that familiar smile beams back at him, "I've always wondered how I'd look with sparkly pink nails."

 

 **November**  
"What I don't understand," Louis starts. He can hear the slight slur in his words and curses Nick Grimshaw's love of shit gin and tonic and terrible boyfriends for the hundredth time tonight. Derek's possibly the worst yet, breaking it off in the middle of dinner and leaving Nick to foot the bill. He'd come home looking so pathetic, Louis couldn't help himself. 

"What I don't understand," he repeats, "is why you've never just hooked up with Harry." He can feel Nick's judging stare from where he's sprawled along the sofa. "I mean, you've both got loads in common, get along stupidly well--" Louis raises his glass, ice cubes clacking together, "and Harry sucks cock like a pro. It's a match made in heaven." 

There's a snort from Nick's chair, then, "Come by that last bit of information first-hand, Tomlinson?" There's an air of obvious disbelief in his tone. 

Louis stretches his head back on the arm of the sofa to look at Nick. It's uncomfortable, but totally worth it when Nick squawks like a chicken, arms flailing when Louis tells him, "Well, yeah. I wouldn't recommend it otherwise, you tit." 

There's a long pause before, "I need another drink," and the sound of Nick pushing out of his chair. It's not until a finger pokes him in the head and he blinks his eyes open, that Louis realizes he'd even closed them. Nick's leaning over him, eyes narrowed. He's a little flushed, wavering a bit as he stares down at Louis. 

"I need another drink," he repeats and grabs Louis's glass, "and then you're telling me _everything_."

 

 **December**  
It's not supposed to be a very big party but between Harry and Nick, who apparently know at least half of London, the house is packed. Somehow or another, everyone seems to know it's Louis's birthday and he's receiving well wishes with nearly every single step he takes. 

It's lovely, it really is, but Louis's a bit exhausted. 

He manages to get away from the noise for a moment, stealing away to Nick's bathroom. It's private, attached to his bedroom, so Louis feels a bit odd sneaking through. It's worth it, however, when he's able to sit on the edge of the bathtub and just _breathe_. The lighting is low, soft, and Louis lets himself sink into it. 

The call from his mum earlier in the day is running around his head. She'd just wanted to tell him a happy birthday and to travel safe, his sisters clamoring loudly in the background. He's headed out to Doncaster in the morning to see them; it's silly to be so homesick, but it's a near physical ache in his stomach right now. 

"Hiding away, birthday boy?" 

Louis looks up to find Nick watching him. Before Louis can say anything though, Nick's waving it away, and making his way to sit on the edge of the bathtub as well. He hands Louis a glass of wine, laughing when Louis grimaces after taking a sip. 

"You're a year older, Louis Tomlinson, have to start drinking adult-y things now." 

Louis snorts, hands the glass back and says, "I think I'll pass, thanks." 

When he looks over, the corners of Nick's mouth are tilted up, amused, and Louis feels the tension sink out of him a little more. He bumps a shoulder against Nick's, "I never did thank you, you know." Nick looks over him, lifting an eyebrow. "For letting me stay here." 

Nick shrugs. "Not too much of a hardship, really." He smirks, adding, "And the twins totally love me more now anyway, so." Oh god, they so do. They haven't shut up for the last two months, his mum tells him. It'd be even more disgusting if Louis hadn't been there to watch them fall in love with each other. 

He's not sure why he does what he does next -- maybe it's the melancholy, or maybe it's the opposite -- but Louis leans over. He's meant to give Nick a quick kiss on the cheek, but Nick turns and the kiss lands at the corner of his mouth instead. 

Louis doesn't think about the heat of Nick's breath against his mouth, he _doesn't_ , just pulls back, mutters, "Thanks anyway," and promptly makes his way back to the party. 

It's an accident anyway. No big deal. 

 

 **January**  
Nick is irritated and he's not quite sure why. 

Okay, that's not entirely true. He knows it's mainly because he standing there like a numpty because Harry is over in the corner talking animatedly to someone Nick doesn't know. Meanwhile on the opposite side of the room, Louis's been wrapped up in conversation with a bloke that Nick swears could pass for Beckham's baby but-still-fit-as-fuck brother for the last _hour_. Like, they've literally not stopped talking the entire time. 

Baby!Beckham looks besotted and Nick needs another drink. When he turns to do just that, he finds Harry standing there, watching him. 

"That's a tad creepy, Harold," Nick says, making his way over to the bar and indicating another drink. 

"So was the way you were just staring at Louis and Liam," is the response he gets. Harry puts an elbow on the counter, leaning in to look closely at Nick. "Something I should know about?" 

"Louis's a footie fanatic," Nick actually knows what offsides is now, which is another thing that irritates him. He hands some cash to the bartender, waving away the change. "So it's not surprising he'd be into a Beckham look-alike." He can feel Harry about to say something he doesn't want to hear, so he leers at Harry, adding, "Which is something you'd know more about, I hear." 

It doesn't faze Harry, who just shrugs and says, "He decided he was more into girls." 

Nick snorts, using his glass to indicate the person in question, who's _still_ talking to baby!Beckham. He mutters, "S'not what it looks like right now." 

Harry just hums noncommittally, not saying a word, not until Nick's finished his drink again and set it on the bar. It's then Harry curls a hand around Nick's elbow and begins pulling him forward. 

"No," Nick protests when he realizes where they're headed. "No, no, no. Harry--" 

Harry smiles back at him and says, "Liam's absolutely lovely; you're going to adore him." Nick scowls then scowls harder when Harry adds, "And if it's nothing I should know about, you'll have no problems meeting him." 

He lets Harry drag him over. It turns out that Liam _is_ absolutely lovely. The fact that he's engaged to a woman doesn't brighten Nick's afternoon at all. 

 

 **February**  
Nick's beginning to think he spends entirely too much of his life drinking. It's hard to care, however, when he gets to watch Niall twirl Harry around the room until they ultimately end up in a pile of limbs on the floor. Also, Niall's cackle is contagious. 

When his own laughter subsides, Nick glances across the room. He finds Louis, rolling his eyes at the antics but with a look on his face, the fond one he saves just for Harry. Before Nick can look away, Louis's meeting his gaze. _Idiots_ , he mouths, shaking his head. Nick grins and raises his glass in agreement. A moment later, Louis turns his head to talk to the couple beside him. It's Liam, Nick notes. 

Of course it is. 

The two of them have been near inseparable for the last month, clandestine meetings and secret phone calls. Harry won't tell Nick anything, to his eternal frustration, and Louis refuses to talk about it whenever Nick asks. All he knows is that Liam works at the small studio where Harry's been recording. Nick is eternally nosy; the secrecy is basically killing him. 

 

It's a couple hours before Nick actually catches up with Louis. He's had a few more by then, knows it's evident when he whines, "You've ignored me all evening, Lewis," and makes grabby hands that get knocked away with a sharp slap. Still, he pushes on. "You've no time for your roomie anymore, always with Liam now." 

"You sound almost jealous," Louis murmurs, watching Nick. 

He looks almost coy like that, with the way he's looking up at Nick. The hallway is quiet and dark enough to throw shadows from Louis's eyelashes. Not that Nick's looking at his eyelashes. Because he's not. 

It's just-- 

It's just that Nick's spent more time than he'd like thinking about the night of Louis's birthday. The way the light had played over Louis's face, the brush of his lips against Nick's mouth. 

"M'not jealous," he responds. It's too delayed, and Louis's smirks at him. Before he can think, Nick's leaning in. Louis stills immediately, barely breathing as Nick's lips press against the corner of his mouth. 

Nick pulls back, still close enough that Louis's breath brushes against his skin when he asks softly, "What was that for?" He shrugs, unable to move away. 

"A 'you're welcome', I suppose," he finally manages to get out. 

It's sounds like his heart's trying to beat out of his chest and his head's doing a bit of spinning, too. If he's honest with himself, Nick's not entirely sure it's all to do with the alcohol. 

When Louis's chin lifts the tiniest fraction, he knows it's not. 

 

 **March**  
It's not like he's _actively_ trying to avoid Nick. 

There's been hardly any time at home, not between helping Niall out at the Youth FC and working at the bar to pay rent and bills. And then there's the writing stuff he's managed to fall into with Liam -- _real_ songs, he's writing _music_ that people might actually sing; it's surreal -- which takes up any remaining time in his week. Nick's generally gone by the time Louis wakes and in bed by the time Louis's able to get home. 

Louis's just busy, that's all. Busy enough that he doesn't have to think about certain things. 

If he happens to shove a pillow over his head and meditate until he falls back to sleep when the shower starts in the morning or play video games with Zayn until Perrie threatens to make both of them sleep outside each evening, no one but Louis has to know. 

And besides, Louis thinks, Nick's too busy avoiding him for Louis to be avoiding Nick. 

 

 **April**  
Nick can _almost_ appreciate the look of sheer disgust on Louis's face when he walks in from the front door to find Nick curled up on the sofa, swaddled in jogging pants, a hoodie, two blankets, and surrounded by a million used tissues. 

"The plague then, is it?" Louis calls, making his way into the kitchen. Nick would lift his head to see what he's doing, but it's too heavy. He settles for blowing his nose loudly instead. 

He's almost asleep when there's a poke at his shoulder. He whines, not wanting to move, but all it does is earn him another poke, harder this time. 

"Ugh," Nick grumbles, struggling to make his way out of the blanket cocoon. It takes a bit, his body achy and sore in the worst way, but eventually he's sat up. Scrubbing at his eyes, which feel as though they're crusted over, he manages a croaky, "What?" 

"You're worse than Harry, I swear," Louis mutters. He's holding a cup of tea, looking down at Nick with a frown. He's wearing slacks, neatly pressed, and a white jumper. Nick thinks his skin looks unfairly golden for this time of year, but it could be all the snot clogging up his brain. He doesn't respond to Louis's dig, just sniffles miserably instead. Louis rolls his eyes and pulls out his mobile. 

"What are you doing?" Nick asks. 

"I'm calling my mum," Louis replies, scowling at Nick even as he puts the phone up to his ear, "to make sure you aren't going to die." It's easy to tell when Jay picks up on the other end, Louis's whole demeanor shifts. He softens, mouth relaxing into an easy grin. 

It feels like something's gone and smacked Nick in the chest, when it hits him that he's somehow possibly gone and fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson. He coughs at the realization, watching as Louis side-eyes him with concern. 

"Don't die," Louis hisses at him, then, "Hello, mum!" 

Nick thinks he should probably panic, but he feels too terrible right now to actually do so. Instead, he sips his tea and watches Louis pace back and forth in their living room, discussing the best way to keep Nick alive. 

 

 **May**  
Nick's being weird. 

"You're being weird," Louis snaps. They've stopped avoiding each other at least, since Nick recovered; however, he's been tucked up in a corner of the sofa all night, hands curled around his mobile and sneaking looks at Louis. It's disconcerting. And a bit irritating. 

Months back they'd compromised on the telly, GBBO nights being Nick's, but he's been distracted all evening and Louis's bored of watching people cook things. "If you're not going to going to actually watch Bake-off, I'm putting on _Avengers_." 

Nick scrunches his nose up, not even looking at Louis. The mobile in his hands lights up with an incoming message. 

Louis tosses one of Nick's ridiculous throw pillows at his head then, watching in satisfaction as Nick flails half off the sofa when it hits its target. Because Louis can't help himself, he adds, "Your overgrown head makes an easy target, Grimshaw." 

That actually earns him a disgruntled half-shout. He grins, about to say something else when the throw pillow comes back at him. He manages to duck but gets nailed right in the face with a second pillow. He shakes it off, looking up to find Nick laughing at him. Louis narrows his eyes. 

"You do realize that I grew up with four sisters, right?" he asks. 

Nick rolls his eyes, fakes a yawn. "Bring it on, Tomlinson." 

Louis grins. 

 

He's not sure how much time has passed, but the living room is in shambles. The sofa is missing half its cushions and Louis thinks they've broken at least one lamp in the altercation. However, he's currently straddling Nick's stomach and is shoving a pillow into his face. 

"Say it," he repeats. "Say, 'Tommo is the king', c'mon." 

"Tommo is an arse," is what he gets instead, Nick batting weakly at the pillow in Louis's hands. He sounds a bit wheezy. 

Lifting the pillow, Louis looks down at Nick. His hair's a mess, face red from exertion and Louis's pillow ministrations. It's not a bad look on him, Louis thinks. _That_ night pops into Louis's head, the flush of Nick's cheeks when he'd pulled back after the second kiss. The panic on his face a moment later and then the way he'd practically run from the room. 

Louis wonders what would happen now, if he were to lean down and kiss Nick. What would Nick do with nowhere to run? 

"Louis?" 

He blinks, Nick's face coming back into focus. He's watching Louis, a look on his face that Louis can't quite discern. Nick's got a hand wrapped around Louis's wrist now, and it feels terribly warm despite the loose grip. Louis takes a deep breath even as Nick repeats his name. 

It's more solid this time, more sure. The fingers around Louis's wrist tighten and Louis finds he's leaning forward without even thinking about it. 

Nick's mobile rings. 

 

**June**  
 _Whatever happens, do not fuck this up, Grimmy_

Nick frowns. The text is from Harry, but Nick's got no idea what he's on about. _???_ , he sends back. 

_Seriously, DO NOT FUCK THIS UP_

He's in the middle of typing another string of question marks to Harry when a separate text comes through. _good luck!!_ Liam's sent four thumbs-up emojis along with it. Nick's trying to figure out how Liam even got his number when Niall's, _wrap it before you tap it !_ lights up his screen a second later. 

"What the actual fuck?" Nick mutters. Shaking his head, he shoves the mobile in his trousers and unlocks the door. He's halfway through it, hollering, "Have you received any weird texts from---" when the smell hits him. "Louis?"

There's the sound of the oven door slamming shut, a quiet curse, and then Louis's, "At the table!"

To be honest, Nick's forgotten he's even got a dining table. It's usually covered with stuff, either Nick's papers from the BBC or Louis's half-folded laundry. Right now though, it's cleared off and set with Nick's only matching plates. 

Louis's just setting a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table when Nick walks in. 

"Hey," he says to Nick, not really looking at him. He shifts the bowl around a quarter of an inch, then back before he actually looks up. 'I, uh. I just thought that dinner would be nice?" He waves at the table, "There's--"

"--chicken stuffed with mozzarella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of mash," Nick finishes for him. He's heard the story more than once from Harry over the last year. 

Louis goes bright red and everything clicks into place. 

" _OH_ ," Nick says stupidly. He blinks a few times, trying to wrap his head around what's just happened. Even from across the room, Nick can see Louis's face fall. In the next moment, it's gone blank and Nick can feel his stomach twist up. 

_Do not fuck this up_

Harry knows him too well. 

Louis's back in the kitchen by the time Nick gets his legs to move, refusing to look up even when Nick wraps a hand around his wrist to stop him from untying the knot of his apron. And there's that, Nick's just now noticing he's wearing the one Amiee'd bought for him when he'd first moved in. It's got a giant set of Mick Jagger lips and _kiss the cook_ scrawled across it.

That sounds about right, Nick thinks, as he pulls a reluctant Louis Tomlinson around to meet him. 

It's different, this kiss. 

They're both completely sober, for one; Louis stiff against him until Nick slides a hand around the back of Louis's neck, thumb brushing the line of his jaw and tilting his chin up so Nick has better access. Louis goes pliant then, sinking into him. It lasts half a second before Louis nips sharply at Nick's bottom lip. Nick breaks the kiss, laughing. 

"You're such a shit," he mutters. Louis bites at his jaw in retaliation. 

That's about right, Nick thinks again, and leans back down for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to Alison for being amazing and running a challenge even when people like me cause too much trouble ♥


End file.
